Sleeping Arrangements
by gingerale22
Summary: Harry has a hard time sleeping after the final battle. So do Ron and Hermione.


Only an hour ago, moments after he'd fulfilled his life's purpose and killed Voldemort, Harry had wanted nothing but a sandwic

Only an hour ago, moments after he'd fulfilled his life's purpose and killed Voldemort, Harry had wanted nothing but a sandwich and some sleep. He'd had his sandwich, but the sleep was eluding him.

After months of sleeping on a thin cot in a cramped tent, the soft mattress of his four-poster in Gryffindor Tower felt alien to his back—like it would swallow him up the moment he nodded off. The dormitory's peace and quiet also scared him. He'd gotten quite used to Ron's snores drifting down from the bunk above him, and to being kept half-awake by the rustling of Hermione's books.

Harry could tell that Ron couldn't sleep either. The bed beside his was too silent to be housing a sleeping Weasley. Ron was probably thinking of Fred, or George, Harry thought.

That set Harry off thinking about Remus and Tonks and Teddy, _oh Merlin_. And Mad-Eye. And Dobby. Snape. Colin. Harry gave up on trying to sleep any time soon.

The sound of footsteps padding into their dormitory broke his gloomy reverie. He'd know those footsteps anywhere. Apparently, Hermione couldn't sleep either, and had decided to bother Ron about it. He heard Ron's bed curtains rustle open as Hermione invited herself into his bed. He also heard Ron's startled gasp.

Harry buried his head under his pillows and forced himself to sleep so he wouldn't have to hear anything else.

"Hermione, what are you—"

"Sssh. You're going to wake Harry up."

Ron lowered his voice. "But what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," Hermione admitted sheepishly. "I was the only one in the girls' dorm… and, well. I've kind of grown used to having the two of you close by."

Actually, Ron didn't really mind having Hermione in his bed. _Who was he kidding?_ He loved it. However, he'd had no chance to fix his hair or wipe the tears from his eyes and that dampened his enthusiasm a bit.

"You're welcome to stay, then. I couldn't sleep either."

Hermione looked relieved at that, and proceeded to lie beside him. The feeling of her pressed so close was totally distracting; her warmth kept sending naughty messages to his brain. He hated himself for feeling aroused and _petty_ at a time of grief. He remembered Fred, and couldn't help but chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Hermione turned on her side and looked at him curiously.

"Nothing. I—I—just. I thought of Fred and—" Ron couldn't continue because tears had overtaken words, and he was choking and sobbing and it was totally embarrassing to break down in front of Hermione.

But she just inched closer and brought a hand to his face to wipe his tears. Hermione was making shushing sounds, although through his tears he could see that she was crying as well.

"He was really my favourite brother," Ron tried to continue. "He was always taking the piss and getting me into trouble… but…" He stopped trying to talk and just sobbed into Hermione's hair.

He calmed down, eventually, many thanks to the feel of Hermione's fingers laced with his, and the sight of her in his bed. This was definitely not what he meant during the nights he fantasized about bringing her here, but he'd take it. It was still Hermione, after all, holding his hand and looking into his eyes.

Ron leaned into her and kissed her. This was only their second kiss, and the first he'd initiated. The kiss was brief and almost chaste, but her lips were just as he remembered from four (?) hours ago—soft, warm, damp, and sweet.

He ended the kiss soon, but didn't move back, so they were nose to nose. This was the closest he'd ever been to her, and he could see her every pore and the amber specks in her chocolate-brown eyes. He loved all of them. He loved all of her.

"Hermione, I was thinking…" Ron trailed off.

"Mmmhhhmmm?"

He was distracted by her fingertips grazing his bottom lip, but he fought valiantly to continue.

"About your parents…" her fingertips stilled as she shut her eyes and stiffened in his arms. "We should arrange for a Portkey to Australia tomorrow and bring them back the day after. I'll go talk to Mum and Kingsley and you prepare what you need to lift the Memory Charms—"

Hermione's mouth was suddenly on Ron's, making him unable to continue relaying his plans. Her lips were hot and forceful, her tongue teasing against his. But what he'd never forget was the feeling of her wet eyelashes against his skin. He swore to never make her cry again.

When they broke apart form the kiss, he pulled Hermione further into himself and tried to ride out her sobs and rock her to sleep. Just before dreams took over him as well, he heard her whisper.

"Tomorrow… Portkey… love you, Ron."

A pillow doesn't really block out most sounds, was what Harry learned that night. He heard Ron's sobs and plans, Hermione's shushing and sniffling. His heart broke once again for his two best friends, and he couldn't help but feel guilty one more time.

He was relieved the moment he heard Ron's soft snores fill the room. A smile graced his face at rustling that could only mean Hermione burrowing deeper into Ron's arms. Harry turned on his side and closed his eyes, sure that sleep would claim him soon enough.


End file.
